Young and Beautiful
by nlizzette7
Summary: "'Will you always look at me this way' Her words fade into an array of moans and whimpers when Chuck rolls his hips into hers. Lights pass them by – wealth is on display just outside - but he has it all in his hands." CB. One-shot based on The Great Gatsby.


**AN: **Hey guys! So, I know that I haven't updated, and I'm extremely sorry. I'm going to try and have Wires posted by Monday night. But I went to see The Great Gatsby in theaters, and I can't even tell you how much I loved it. I was obsessed with the book and in love with Leo, so I just swooned throughout the entire movie. Needless to say, I couldn't get this one-shot out of my head. It's a parallel of Daisy and Gatsby's story to Chuck and Blair's. Some lines are inspired by the novel. The song below is Lana Del Rey's _Young and Beautiful_.

* * *

_I've seen the world, done it all, had my cake now_

_Diamonds, brilliant, in Bel Air now._

_Hot summer nights, mid July, when you and I were forever wild._

_The crazy days, city lights, the way you'd play with me like a child._

_Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?_

He loves her when they are seventeen.

It's 2007, and New York City tilts under the heat of pleasure seducing business, under the thrill of wealth and a glimmer of possibility. They all wear strings of pearls like leashes and clink champagne glasses so loudly that they can almost mimic the sound of their stilled hearts – whose enamored youth had been crushed by money, more money, and the shimmering things it buys them.

She pretends to hate him at first, and he allows it. He allows her to hate him because of the glances she spares when the parties die down and her arm slips from the crook of her dates' arms. From the moment he lays eyes on her, he knows that she is a quake of uninhibited wildness that matches his own. He is Chuck Bass, and _she _is Blair Waldorf. But names don't matter when she bends sinfully under his hands, whispers everything that she is into his ear until she's all that's left in the world.

And, in the end, Chuck supposes that it was everything she wanted – to rewrite him into a man that belongs to her. Blair likes to own handsome things. And so the billionaire bachelor with notches upon notches engraved into his leather belt falls to his knees for her.

On one night, they're invited to the same party on the cusp of midtown – some extravagant burlesque joint dripping in sin. Blair arrives with a tall blonde bombshell, but Chuck's eyes don't leave her when she shrugs off her mint shawl and twirls around in her slinky black dress. He watches her cold eyes, her coy laughter, the men pawing after her – and how she rejects each of their advances with a little eye roll.

But it's different when Blair catches his eye, and her smile is nearly blinding when she takes the stage and begins her little show. She's shy and oh so seductive when she shrugs the strap of her dress off, parting her lips in faux flirty surprise when it hits the floor. The crowd goes wild for her when her hips mimic a pendulum, hypnotizing every ounce of his being. Chuck reaches for his chest that night, rakes his fingers over the fabric of his shirt. The sight of her almost hurts.

Blair doesn't protest when he slips his hand around hers, whispers something about his limo before draping his trench coat over her shoulders.

"Bass," Blair whispers once she's sprawled across his backseat, her stark white gown wrapped around her chest, splaying out across her milky thighs and his legs. Chuck's fingertips graze her hair, and he lifts a thin flute to her lips, enraptured by the way her throat constricts and she moans at the taste of her mother's finest Chianti. He is infatuated, unaware of the slow creep of madness descending upon his once vacant emotions.

"Waldorf," Chuck echoes. He pulls her legs over both of his, brushes his knuckles over the dip of her knees, then up her thighs.

"How can you look at me that way?" Blair asks, eyelashes fluttering, heartbeat rapid with the push of alcohol. He raises his eyebrows in question, beckoning her to go on. "I watched you discard all of your whores. I…" Blair shakes her head and lifts her lips in a small smile. "But you watch me as if I were something else entirely."

Chuck kisses her palm, worships her skin as he speaks, "For a woman as dastardly..." Chuck smirked, raking his teeth over her pulse point to feel her shiver. "As sinfully ravishing as you are?" His eyes follow her every twitch, slow spasm, breathy moan. "There is simply no one else to look at."

And then she casts him a glance that changes everything. Her eyes widen, then glimmer like he's some sort of prize – a look that goes unmatched by Bart's cold glares. He is just a boy then, but she believes in him like nothing else makes sense.

"Oh," Blair murmurs, lifting her chin. "You know…" The sound of her voice is a sugary drug, luring him in by pink lips. Chuck closes his eyes to listen. "I could love you." Blair avoids his eyes and smiles. "But I've been told to stay away from men like you. Proper girls shouldn't love…wicked things. They'll only break us."

Chuck cups her chin with rough fingers. "Do you always do what you're told?" Blair parts her lips to respond, but he only continues, "Those fools don't matter. _I_ can give you everything."

"Can you?" Blair challenges. "Will you lavish me with pretty things?"

"None as pretty as you."

She's pleased when she goes on. "And there'll be a palace, I suppose."

Chuck smiles, thinking of _the _palace under his own name. "Of course."

Blair's excited now, too heady from the alcohol to come down from her excitement, to feign icy-cold aloofness. "Can't you see us, Bass? The king and queen – Manhattan swimming under our fingertips." A dimple forms on her cheek as she throws her arms around his neck. "Will you always adore me?"

Chuck raises a brow and grins, digs his fingers into her thighs, pulls her onto his lap, speaks into her neck. "Always."

Blair touches his cheek with three fingers, traces the hard line of his jaw. "Will you always look at me this way?" Her words fade into an array of moans and whimpers when Chuck rolls his hips into hers. Lights pass them by – wealth is on display just outside - but he has it all in his hands.

Chuck holds her face when he moves inside of her, tugs her hair back, touches every inch of her with purposeful fingertips. And just when she falls into innumerable pieces beneath him, he whispers, "_Always_."

:::

He still loves her when they are thirty.

But, you see, _always_ is a funny word.

Waldorfs aren't to marry dirty money – not when there are body counts and corrupted banks hidden beneath the jagged edges of Bass wealth. It only takes a month for Eleanor to grasp Blair with colored claws and drag her away. Chuck watches the papers, watches the news, watches the blinding lights of glittering tiaras and insistent paparazzi, when Blair Waldorf finds a prince to marry.

She becomes Blair Grimaldi, and his Waldorf fades away with each day that passes. But there is an ache inside of him – an obsession that consumes him. He drinks to conjure up memories of her that don't exist. He follows her even further uptown, when the royal family buys a part-time home right beside the park. It's a charming place draped in pink, with servants that dote on her, and pretty things adorning every corner.

And so he builds her an empire.

He builds her _The _Empire, right down their pristine block. It's a building so big that it can practically illuminate the city all on its own. His father dies, and he's convinced that every step away from what he was will make him what she wants. Black and gold awnings hold back the infinite party inside of the expanse of sleek corridors and hired staff. He opens every room, drowns the place with her favorite champagne, cuts into the night with the seductive thump of strings and basses.

And he hopes that she'll see. He hopes that Blair will understand.

_It's all for her._

"Another party," Louis huffs in that accent of his as he paces about the dining room of their penthouse, forcing Blair to tense and cringe, glancing at Serena and her husband – a _Humphrey _– who they have over for tea.

"Party?" Blair sniffs, biting into her scone.

"At The Empire," Serena coughs, flicking her blonde hair back. Dan watches with interest as Blair's eyes flit up and widen, the bite in her mouth nearly dropping back onto her fine China.

"The Empire," Blair murmurs softly.

"Ah, The Great Bass," Louis croons, placing a heavy hand on Blair's shoulder. "It's a wonder he hasn't fallen from his rise." Blair jerks away, stares out at the window, where she can almost imagine Chuck is standing in the highest suite of his hotel, his black suit handsome, his blacker eyes holding the promises she never allowed him to keep.

"Bass?" Blair says, exasperated. "What Bass?" The room awaits her reaction, but she only proceeds to fan herself, lifting the brown curls from the back of her neck. "_Dorota! _Get me some ice. And open the windows. This isn't some sort of sticky brothel." Blair pauses, closing her eyes. "It feels like we're living in Hell."

Their grandfather clock ticks in a torturous rhythm once, twice, and then again.

"Bass is throwing another party tonight," Dan chimes in.

"If you insist that we go, we'll _go_, Humphrey," Blair immediately replies, jerking up from her seat. Louis frowns and Serena giggles into her napkin when Blair walks to the window with an extravagant flourish. "Honestly, it must be exhausting to be so ongoingly desperate to appease your microscopic social standing."

"Blair," Serena warns, rolling her eyes.

Dan clears his throat. "I didn't really insist - "

Blair turns then, smiling sweetly. "What? Consider it a favor." And then she scampers off to find the first purple gown she owns.

:::

They arrive at The Empire upon midnight, and Blair is immediately breathless by the crowd inside, trailing and flirting and dancing up to the top floors. The place is beautiful, filled with macaroons and bubbly drinks, and all of the other things she likes. It's all utter luxury, so dazzling that it doesn't even seem real. Blair stands in the lobby for a moment when they arrive, drinking in a dream that she never knew could exist.

"Blair," Louis insists, jerking her forward. Serena and Dan follow as they get lost in the crowd, in a hollow maze of debauchery and madness. Dan smiles as Serena begins to spin on the points of her toes, and Blair bites her lip against a current of nostalgia. Louis doesn't dance, and Blair isn't surprised. She just clutches her drink and nods her head to the tempo, listening to the whispers swirling around her.

_Bass? I hear that he killed his father._

_No, no, no. He ran away and gave up everything. He's probably a swindler._

_I've never even seen the man!_

The hum of it all is too much for Blair to bear. She slips away from Louis and grabs for Serena, shooting an admonishing glare at Dan when he tries to protest. She grabs for her best friend's hand as they part through diamond-clad, tipsy socialites, nearly knocking them aside in pursuit of an exit.

"B," Serena starts when they finally find a desolate balcony that seems like it hovers over the city. Blair clutches the bannister and counts lights as Serena releases a slow gasp. "Look over there. If you lean over you can see – "

"The Grimaldi Penhtouse," a deep drawl finishes.

The girls jump in surprise, and Blair is the first to spin around, raising a hand to her excited heart. Blair pinches herself to make sure that he truly is standing there, his jaw drawn sharp, his dark hair slicked back to make way for the most beautiful eyes she's ever seen. He's holding a glass of whiskey so effortlessly that his suaveness makes her knees buckle. Blair holds her breath as Chuck raises his drink and looks past her. "I have a distinct view of your penthouse." His jaw strains, and he swallows. "There's that green balcony outside of your sitting room. You have pastries there every Sunday morning."

"Blair," Serena whispers, eyes widening.

"Serena," Blair hisses, speaking to her, but focusing on Chuck. "I'm sure that Louis must be wondering where I am. I'm sure that you and Dan can entertain him for the time being."

"I…" Serena smiles, offering a gentle nod. "Of course." Chuck nods at the blonde as she flees, smiling at Blair over one tanned shoulder.

And then they're alone.

Alone in a sea of people. But they hardly notice.

"Wald – " Chuck catches himself, an unreadable expression crossing his face. He wants to taunt her with her married name, but he can't stomach the word. She watches as he draws closer, stands beside her by the cold bannister.

"An empire," Blair comments, shivering against the cold. He slides off the jacket of his suit, reveals the violet bowtie underneath. She hugs the thick material around herself and glances at him. "Chuck…you did everything. You got everything you wanted."

"It's no kingdom," Chuck coughs. But Blair relaxes when he leans over, trails a finger down the back of her neck, to the thin hair at the nape of it. "There are things missing. There are…" Chuck trails off, clutching her small hand to place it over his chest. "Empty places."

"But the party is beautiful," Blair murmurs.

"Is it?" he chuckles, eyes darkening. "Blair – "

"Chuck," Blair interrupts, steadying him with her touch. He looks at her and she smiles. "There it is." Chuck frowns in confusion, holding her hip. "That _look_. It hasn't gone away."

"How could it possibly? After all that we had…"

"And what do we have now?" Blair challenges, ignoring the invisible presence of her stoic husband downstairs, of this messy extravagance that all belongs to him. "You tell me, Bass."

"Tonight," Chuck answers, scooping her into his arms. Blair gasps when her feet leave the floor for a moment, then return in a waltz to silence, a delirious dance across the stone balcony. They stay that way for what seems like hours – whispering and dipping and sharing breaths disguised as light kisses. They climb up the broken steps of lost time, and Chuck begins to sound desperate as he repairs what they were.

"All of this…" Chuck whispers into her ear. "All of it is for you. This is the life we're supposed to have. Just like you said – Manhattan is mine now, Blair. It's yours."

Blair falters. "How can that be true…when I'm the princess of another man's country?"

"You're not a princess, Blair," Chuck rasps, pulling away to take both of her hands in one of his. He squeezes, and Blair lets out a breath. "You're a queen. You're _my_ queen. This is how things are supposed to be. You found your way back to me – "

"Chuck, everything is different now," Blair sighs, wrenching her hands away. He looks on, his heart dropping as she draws back. "What kind of life could we possibly have together?"

"I don't understand," Chuck says, reaching for her again. "We'll go downstairs right now. I'll be with you when you tell him." His voice breaks off for a moment, and Blair grows panicked. "Tell him that our pull is undeniable. That it's always been _me_."

"Chuck, stop."

"You love me, Blair. You always have, you always will. You never loved him."

Blair startles at the intensity of his gaze, wondering if he's convincing himself more than he's begging her. Regardless, it scares her. She's afraid of the power she has over a man they dare to call a thief, a murderer, an emperor.

"I had to learn to love him," Blair protests.

"No."

"He's _charming_ and – "

"He's an idiot," Chuck retorts, incredulous. He slicks back his hair and stumbles back. Blair hugs herself, blinking back tears. "Blair, tell me that you love me, and this will all be over. We can go back to that night in the limo. I can make things right because I love you." He loses sight in his blind determination. "I _will _make things right."

"I love you," Blair says impulsively, instinctually. But before he can touch her, she blinks and steps back. "And we'll always have that great, terribly younglove. It was written for us, and I was careless with those pages. But we can never go back. I could never be yours – "

She cries out when his glass hits the far wall and crystal falls to the ground like rain. They watch as a piece of his empire shatters around their feet, hauling in a resounding silence. And Blair realizes that this all really is for her – that it was built to take place of his heart, that it would crumble just as easily as emotions can be broken.

"Blair, I'm sorry."

"No, I – "

"Blair, please – "

"I'm going, Chuck."

He looks dejected, cracked open as he watches her turn to go. "Well, don't leave me."

Blair's eyes are sad when she turns the diamond ring on her finger over to face in, to press into her palm until she draws blood. Her wind-blown hair falls down to her shoulders, and her eyes crinkle. "I'm happy that you'll never be alone." Blair glances around, then down at the shattered glass. "I'm happy that you have all of these things."

"Blair," Chuck calls again, but she doesn't hear him.

The Empire dims after that night.

Louis can't possibly understand why Blair cries herself to sleep every night, pretending that the movies she watches effect her more than most. Chuck fires his servants one by one – craving the solace of being alone. People stop coming for parties, guests stop watching the tragedy that is Chuck Bass unfold before them.

But still, he watches her balcony. He watches her sit outside in a pale robe, eating her pastries, glancing at his building every so often. She's relentless, even when the seasons change and the weather threatens her inside, she bundles up and sits in three coats despite Dorota's protests. She's relentless, even when the times change, and she no longer sits on her own. She carries a baby in her arms one year, then plays with a toddler the next, and soon his hair is grayer, and a darling little girl named Audrey begins to wonder why there is a building so big blocking their view of the city.

And Chuck takes it all like a bitter pill, seeing the day that she'll step foot in the The Empire and reclaim his heart so close in his line of vision that it drives him mad.

But he loved her then.

He loves her still.

And so he waits.

_Fin._


End file.
